Page 25 of The Thief
Made sure I seared the curves and spikes of that mark into my brain. Anything to help me identify who these men were.
“Don’t fucking try anything, old man,” I heard Two threaten as he pulled the elderly guy in the tweed suit up to stand. “It won’t just be my bullet you’ll get if you do.”
The old man shook his head vehemently to indicate he didn’t intend to cause any trouble.
Just behind them, Three stood in the doorway to the back area of the bank, where the clerks were crouched on the floor, emptying their pockets. He kept his gun trained on them as they fumbled in a blind panic, trying to do what had been asked of them as their hands shook with fear.
“You too, Miss Daisy,” Two bellowed, and I shifted my focus back to them as he started yelling at the old lady. “Get the fuck up! Fucking hag. I should put a bullet in your head right now and put you out of your misery.” The old lady whimpered as she stood on shaky legs that were struggling to comply. She was terrified.
Number Two held the plastic bag out and the old lady dropped her handbag into it.
“That’s all I’ve got,” she whispered tearfully.
“We’ll see about that,” Two snapped, dropping the bag and patting her down.
The old man cried out, begging him to leave her alone, but he just growled back at him to shut the fuck up. The old lady screwed her eyes shut as he did his vile body search, running his hands all over her, making her shudder and cry. Seeing him manhandle her in that way, his filthy hands violating her, searching her even though he knew he’d find nothing, made my blood boil.
I’d make him pay for that.
The sick fucking cunt.
When he was satisfied with his humiliating, depraved display of power, he threw the boiler suit at her and told her to put it on over her clothes. Then he turned to the old man, picked up the bag, and with a sick grin he held it out for him to fill.
The old man reached into his pockets, pulling out coins and a handkerchief that he dropped in. Then he moved to his inside jacket pocket and took out his wallet and an old mobile phone.
“That’s everything,” he croaked, and Number Two laughed in his face.
“You call that a phone, Grandad? It looks like something from the last century.”
Two patted him down, then snarled at him to get his boiler suit on. Once they were both done, he ordered them to turn around and put their hands behind their backs.
Two took cable ties from his pocket, forced the old lady’s hands together and strapped the tie around her wrists, pulling tight.
“Don’t hurt her,” the old man pleaded on her behalf.
“Shut up, Grandad. Or I’ll make yours even tighter,” Twosnarled back.
The old lady winced, and Two smiled a self-satisfied, smug smile.
“It’s got to be tight, love. Can’t have you getting any ideas now, can we? You look like you could be a troublemaker.”
She shook her head, but he ignored her, pushing her down to the floor like she was nothing. She fell clumsily onto her knees and then her side, howling in pain. Eventually, she managed to roll herself into a sitting position, as her arms were restrained behind her back, and scuttle backwards slightly to lean against the wall. Her tears flowed as she stared fearfully up at Two. He just smirked back at her and then turned to the old man, who hissed in pain as the cable ties were pulled roughly into place, throwing him to the floor to join the old lady when he was done.
“See,” Two announced, lifting his chin in arrogance. “It wasn’t so hard, was it?”
The old man tried to comfort the old lady with words I couldn’t hear as the rest of the room continued to do the same, emptying pockets and standing to be restrained.
I watched Two walk over to Number One, shaking the bag with the old couple’s belonging in, and he laughed to himself as he said, “We came to rob the bank, but it was nice doing business with you all. Thanks for the bonus.” He glanced behind him. “Not that Grandad’s phone will fetch much. Might just use it as a doorstop. Or to club him to death with once all this is over.”
“Just fucking get on with it,” One snapped from his place in front of us, grabbing the bag off him and gesturing for him to retake his place.
Jess and I were standing now, emptying our pockets, andAva still clung to her mum.
“Does it make you feel good? Terrorising a mother and her baby?” I hissed. “Fucking animals.”
“Tyler, don’t,” Jess gasped. “Just do what they say and let’s get this over with.”
I didn’t want to do what they said. I wanted to grab his arm, the one that was holding the gun, snap that fucker in two, and then take the gun and blast it in his face. But I gritted my teeth, feeling like my arms were made of lead, as I dropped the takings from the club into the bag and pulled out my wallet.
